


your lips, they stay perfectly still

by vaultingus



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Angst, Journal, M/M, larry stylinson - Freeform, relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 12:37:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaultingus/pseuds/vaultingus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which harry tries to tie up loose ends faster than louis can unravel them (a journal AU).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title credit to bombay bicycle club's still (listen).

harry doesn’t write anymore.

he used to. his words used to be his way of knowing where he was in the universe and he used to sit down every night and pick up his favorite black pen and crack the spine on his buttery leather journal and write. 

now he will sit down, sometimes. he will feel the creaky wooden chair beneath him and he will move his hips around a bit as if he is testing the weight of his own bones. he’ll sigh, maybe. his lungs fit perfectly into sad exhalations like pleas into empty space. he’ll reach for his pen but his hand will hesitate and instead he aimlessly sifts through the creamy pages from before.

 

 **june 20**  
i think i’d like to give myself to you instead of just flowers this time.  


 **july 9  
** has it been three days or four? we haven’t left the room. i can smell you on my fingertips. there’s a hole in my blanket where the stitches weakened. but not my knees, no those are still strong.

  
 **july—**  
we don’t know the date or the time but it has been weeks and you are in my hair and my lips are chapped and we’re out of milk but the store is such a far way from the bed. i caught you staring out the window only once and when you came back you said i was seeing things that were not flesh so i smiled and let you back under the quilt. i looked out the window later but only saw empty street and i have to remind myself to ask you if you saw anything at all.

  
 **august 1**  
you went outside today but i just stayed in.

  
 **august 14**  
a picture fell when you slammed the door and i won’t go near the broken glass.

  
 **august 15**  
i wonder if you know what you look like when you say you’re sorry you’re  _sososofuckingsorry_ you  _dontknowwhatyouwerethinking_  and you show me your palms like they are the most sincere expanse of skin on your body except your cheeks are sincere too when they quiver halfway between a smile and a sob and your eyes, well i am still not sure if they are cloudy or clear on days like this.

  
 **august 16**  
i will feel those apologies for days or weeks.

  
 **august 19**  
you showed me the newspaper today and the date caught me off guard, like i have been hovering above all these sunrises and i forgot to check how the rest of the world fares when we are in our own. i don’t think we are entitled to a world, but our nest feels like an island, maybe. you even told me  _baby next year i’ll take you to the beach and i’ll be jealous when the sun kisses your skin more than i can and we will be so fucking happy_ and i said  _oh yes_  even though i’ll already miss the snow.

**august 21  
** will you still take me to the beach if we don’t speak?

  
 **september 1**  
you do your talking on my skin and i won’t tell you how much i like the bruises or you will get scared and stop like you always do when you feel like we’ve sunk too deep. you have only ever lived on the surface and you don’t know how careful i am to keep the thoughts of us at the bottom of the ocean to myself so you don’t break from my arms and swim to the fragile layer between the air and the sea. i like how the bruises are the color of your eyes when you are hungry for immaterial things.

  
 **september 3**  
when they fade to yellow they remind me of the leaves falling off the trees and how beautiful you look against the burning.

  
 **september 4**  
when they go away, i still hold the marks in my memory like people i used to know dearly. they were there once.  _every night isn’t lonely_ , they say.  _you were here only yesterday_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which harry tries to tie up loose ends faster than louis can unravel them (a journal AU)

**september 13**  
you always tell me my hands and feet are cold and i take it as an excuse to hide within your glow. some days i get the awful feeling i might be dimming it. our days are always passing, whether in the boxes on the calendar or in the number of times we open our eyes to the sunlight trapped in the curtains. it is a countdown and i don’t know how to tell you that i want to waste away the seconds with you. with you, it’s never wasting at all.  
  
 

**september 15**  
today your ribs were my ladder and i climbed into that secret spot where your clavicle meets your shoulder and i lived there while you parted your lips and spilled your insides. i fell asleep as soon as you finished and i will never know what you did in those minutes or hours when i was next to you but so far away.

 

**october 1  
** today you told me to  _fight back_ and your fingertips dug into my wrist as your words burrowed beneath my skin.  _you have to try. you have to try harder._ i pretended i didn’t know exactly what you meant and i carved the corners of my lips upward and asked you out for coffee, just like in the old days.  _not today_   _but maybe tomorrow_  i said and you said you would like that very much. i am abuzz as if the caffeine has already reached my veins and I think it started when you kissed the left corner of my mouth and told me you had missed my smile.

 

**october 2  
** you looked so achingly familiar across the table, and i wanted to tell you so. instead i settled on _you are lovely_ and you took your first sweet sip of tea with a blush. you seemed surprised that i remembered a splash of milk and exactly three sugar cubes in your mug, and a tiny laugh escaped the captivity of my lips. i am just me but you are  _you you you_  and i like to hold onto any little pieces i find in case one day they are all i have. but today i did not think those things. instead i soaked in the drifting dust all around you and followed your fingertips as they trailed across the initials carved into the tabletop, the markings of past lovers. i wondered if they are still together; if they remember using the sharp edges of their keys to imprint their proof into the worn wood.  _probably not_  i knew deep down. even as we basked in the warm hum of the coffee shop and talked about nothing and everything, i knew today would slip away from us. our grand gestures and our lazy whispers would sew themselves into the fabric of what we’re made of, but we would never again be able to point out october second as anything more sacred than the second day of the month where the world starts to become cold again.

 

**october 6  
** you left our small window open all night and i woke up to the smell of leaves.  _i guess i’m falling for you_  you murmured in your sleep-thickened voice and i laughed too roughly for six a.m. we had coffee with cinnamon and you reminded me of shy mornings before school, eating toast and stepping on leaves over dewy sidewalks just after the sun had risen. we are always rushing forward but on days like this you pull me back and i remember how the world used to feel softer against my skin.


End file.
